


It's My Party...

by commodorecliche



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Filthy, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Party, Partying, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, marco is filthy when he wants to be, sex with company over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commodorecliche/pseuds/commodorecliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You want it, don't you?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's My Party...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Jeanmarco fic request, with the prompt "you want it, don't you?"

It’s late. It’s _gotta_ be late, Jean’s sure of it. Past midnight, for sure. And if Jean were a gambling man, he’d even wager that it’s probably past 1 AM too. But he isn’t much of a gambler - except when Eren is being an asshole - and despite the alcohol coursing through his system, he has enough cognizance to remind himself that not  _everything_ has to come down to a bet with Jaeger.

But it’s definitely at  _least_ 1 AM. Cause it’s goddamn late, like he said.

Standing alone in the kitchen, Jean eyes his almost empty solo cup before lifting his gaze to drag along the countertops. They’re littered with abandoned, empty cups, little liquid spills that Jean’s sure will get sticky soon.

The giant cooler they had filled with Jungle Juice is almost gone, and he can hear the music from the other room thumping through the walls. He hopes the neighbors don’t complain.

He should really try to clean his goddamn kitchen up now, cause he definitely isn’t going to want to deal with it tomorrow. He sighs and chuckles a little to himself, because it’s 1 AM and here he is, thinking about cleaning his wrecked up kitchen. He chortles a little, still a little buzzed, and opts instead to just top off his drink with what little remains of their One Cup Jungle Juice.

Jean takes a big sip of his drink, tipsy enough now that he’s not even cringing at the gasoline-esque taste of alcohol in the ungodly concoction. He manages to find a clear spot on the island and leans forward onto his elbows to play on his phone. He probably should go back to the party, or at least try to find Marco, but for now, he’s enjoying his short moment of solitude.

He gets a little caught up in his Cookie Jam game, sipping on his drink, and desperately attempting to pass the level. His slight intoxication probably isn’t helping, but goddamn if he won’t try. Jean only tears his focus away from the screen when he feels a pair of strong hands grip his hips and a warm body press flush against his ass and leans down over him.

“Mmm,” Marco groans softly into his ear, “what’re you doin'?”

Jean straightens up a bit but Marco keeps his hold on him. Jean turns to face him, leaning up for a brief kiss on the cheek. He can smell the alcohol on him, but Marco is probably only slightly more tipsy than he is. The boy’s got an impressive (and somewhat surprising) tolerance.

“Nothin’, just topping off my drink and enjoying a brief moment of quiet.”

Marco’s  _“hmmph”_ s and his hands come to rest on the island around Jean. He cages Jean in and attempts to step ever-closer, hips coming to press flush against Jean’s. Jean doesn’t mean to groan, but he can’t really help it. At the sound, Marco wiggles his hips a little, making sure his chest is hard against Jean’s too. He leans his head forward to pepper gentle little kisses along the camber of Jean’s neck.

Goosebumps start to litter Jean’s skin - a direct result of Marco’s lips and the gentle scrape of his stubble against the sensitive skin of his neck. Jean lets his hands come to rest on Marco’s hips. Marco trails his kisses up to the shell of his ear and Jean can feel the warmth of his breath when he speaks.

“You look… SO damn hot tonight.” Marco purrs, nibbling gently on Jean’s earlobe.

Jean tries to hold back his whimper, but barely manages to. He keeps his eyes focused on the doorway to the kitchen. It’s empty now and no one can see in, but all the booze is in here, which all but guarantees that  _someone_ is bound to come in sometime or another.

“Been thinkin’ about havin’ your cock in my mouth all damn night.” Marco whispers sinfully into Jean’s ear, and the bluntness of Marco’s words catches him a little off guard. He jolts a little, feels the heat flare up in his cheeks.

“Marco!” He chides softly, and Marco just shrugs innocently, still not pulling his head away from Jean’s ear and neck. He lavishes the skin with attention, tongue flicking and teeth nipping into the flesh playfully.

Jean shudders under his mouth, fingers curling and digging into Marco’s hips. He still flicks his eyes over to the doorway, nerves curling in his stomach that someone might walk in. But Marco seems unconcerned. One of his hands lifts from off the island to slip slightly under the hem of Jean’s shirt, palming the hard flesh of Jean’s hip. Marco rolls his hips again, making it painfully obvious that he’s hard, and that he  _knows_ full well that Jean is hard too.

“Want you to fuck my mouth, Jean…” Marco groans lustily, pointedly grinding his dick forward again into Jean’s with each word he speaks. Jean moans, breath hitched, because goddamn does it get him going when Marco starts talking filthy like that.

“You want it, don’t you?” Marco teases, punctuating the taunt with a firm bite into Jean’s shoulder. Jean grunts and nods silently, because goddamn right he wants it, but…

“But the party…” Jean starts,

“Is at  _our_ house.” Marco finishes for him, pulling away to look down at Jean. He flicks his head to gesture to the hallway that leads to their bedroom. “Come on,” he coos, “They’ll never know.”

Jean laughs and shakes his head in disbelief.

“We can’t ditch our own party for a quickie.”

“Sure we can. Haven’t you heard that song?  _It’s my party and I’ll give my boyfriend head if I want to_!" 

Jean quirks his eyebrow.

"I am… 99% sure that is  _not_ how that song goes.”

Marco steps back, one hand grabbing onto Jean’s to lead him towards the hallway teasingly.

“Come on, baaaabe. I’ll make it  _so_ good for you.”

Jean bites his lip, stealing one more glance at the doorway that leads back towards their living room. He can hear the music and the happy voices of their friends, muffled by the walls that separate them, and he’s almost ready to say no, to tell Marco that they can wait till later for a little depravity. But when he glances back at Marco, hand still gripping his own, coy, sultry smile on his face, Jean can’t say no.

He nods curtly and trots along with Marco down the opposite hall towards their bedroom.

As soon as they slip inside, Marco manhandles Jean back, using his body to slam their door shut. Marco pins him firmly, mouth already latched hard onto Jean’s. He kisses with desperation - with a sense of urgency and need, clouded with lust and fervor. The franticness of it all sets Jean alight. 

Jean’s hand fumbles along the door he’s pressed against, his fingers somehow managing to find and turn the lock on the doorknob as Marco kisses him. He only breaks the kiss so he can deftly undo the button of Jean’s pants, but his mouth is back in an instant. Not wanting to go too long without tasting Jean’s skin, he latches once again onto the curve of Jean’s neck.. He’s a little careless, urgent and a little too present, and Jean just  _loves_ it.

He loves the sting of Marco’s teeth, he loves the heated tingle in his skin when Marco sucks hickeys along his flesh. He loves the jolt that fires through him when Marco finally gets his hand around his dick.

He loves the sound of Marco’s downright  _filthy_ pants and moans as he drops to his knees without hesitation.

Jean stares down at him, hand naturally coming to rest on Marco’s head. He threads those brown locks around his fingers, not tugging yet, just petting, but ready to hold onto him once Marco decides to break him down.

“God, Marco…” Jean heaves, eyes meeting his lover’s as he thrusts his mouth onto his cock in one quick motion.

Jean’s head flings back, thunking hard against the wood of their bedroom door. And he’s quite happy that he can still hear the music thumping from the other room, because otherwise someone was bound to hear that thud. Jean grips Marco’s hair as firmly as he can without being rough, merely as an attempt to steady himself. He tries not to guide Marco, he tries to let Marco move at his own pace, because goddamn that pace is good.

But Marco slows for a moment, pausing and  pulling his mouth off Jean’s cock for a second. That gets Jean’s attention damn fast, and he pries open his eyes to stare down at his boyfriend.

Marco looks fuckin’ sinful - debauched, with ruffled hair and plush, kiss-reddened lips - and Jean feels raw  _want_ curl in the pit of his stomach. He clenches his fingers a little and Marco smirks at the tug, holding the base of Jean’s cock teasingly.

“Come on,” he coos, flicking his tongue out to gently lick the head and tap it against his tongue, “come on, babe, fuck my mouth. You know you want to.”

Marco snarls a little playfully, and Jean nods silently, moving Marco’s open, waiting mouth back down onto his dick. At first, he only guides Marco, controlling the way he drags his wet, hot mouth along his length with caution and tenderness. But he feels Marco’s hand rest on his hips before steadily reaching back and around to palm at his ass roughly. He can feel Marco pulling on him, urging him on, urging him forward further into his mouth, and Jean doesn’t need a second invitation.

He thrusts his hips in time with Marco’s guiding motions, he grips his boyfriend’s hair hard to drag him along his dick a little more quickly. Each thrust is a little more frantic, a little more desperate, a little bit deeper into Marco’s receptive throat. He fucks into his mouth. Jean can feel Marco’s fingers curling, nails digging hard into the flesh of his ass, and god almighty is that fucking _good_.

Even with the all the alcohol in his system, Jean knows he won’t last long. He thrusts forward rhythmically, letting Marco take him as deep as he can, reveling in the moans and groans Marco ekes out with each thrust.

Jean knows he’s getting close. and Marco’s hands just aren’t stopping, steadily parting Jean’s cheeks, fingers beginning to toy ever so slightly at Jean’s entrance. Jean shudders, hips faltering a little at the touches.

Marco’s digit begins to gently probe along his hole, teasing and taunting with the tenderest of sensations that Marco knows Jean fucking loves. And that’s enough to do him in.

With a few more stuttered thrusts of his hips, Jean clenches Marco’s hair hard. He comes with a broken groan, and Marco releases his cock cleanly, swallowing it all like the dirty little boy he always is.

Jean, slouched against the wall, softly releases his boyfriend’s hair and stares down at him. Marco stares up at him feistily and Jean loves that wicked look in his eyes.

Marco stands slowly, planting his arms against the door on either side of Jean’s head and leans in close. Lips just barely brushing against Jean’s, he snarls hotly as he speaks.

“My turn.”  

**::**

**Author's Note:**

> if you're a dirty little sinnamon bun and you know it, clap your hands. 
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://commodorecliche.tumblr.com).


End file.
